Cowboy Six Pack

by Kari Lynn Dell

  "Oh, hell." Tyler slapped his hands over his face, remembering his harsh words in the interview room.

  "Yep. That's pretty much where I wanted to send you." Murphy turned his hands over and slowly curled them into fists. "She won't talk about it except to say she couldn't stand by and watch an innocent man's life ruined."

  Tyler could only shake his head, his extremities going numb as the shock set in. Shannon. Shot. Bleeding. Nearly dying. For him.

  "But tonight, I don't understand why she left—" Then he did. He pressed his knuckles to his eyes, hearing his own voice. How can you keep doing this?

  To yourself, he'd meant. But Shannon had taken it all wrong.

  "I didn't mean it that way," he said, as if the other man was privy to his thoughts.

  Murphy braced his hands on his knees and pushed his shoulders back, a weary approximation of his military bearing. "What are you going to do about it?"

  "Do?" Tyler echoed.

  "The girl damn near got herself killed on your account. I was hoping you'd prove you were worth it." Murphy rose and fished an envelope from his back pocket. It clanked when he threw it on the table. "I suggest you get your rear in gear and do whatever it takes to fix this, because let me tell you, if my wife finds out you hurt her baby again, I won't be responsible for what happens. And we do know where you live."

  "Your wife?" Tyler nearly swallowed his tongue. His gaze veered from the envelope to Murphy. "You're Shannon's..."

  "Father." Murphy flashed a mocking smile. "I come with the package, sport. Might wanna keep that in mind before you go makin' any promises." He glanced around the room and started for the door. "I'd better get out of here. If I get to thinkin' what you might have done with my girl in that bed, I'll have to thump on you just on principle."

  The door thunked shut behind him. Tyler picked up the envelope. There was an address scribbled on the front. He turned it over, his fingers immediately recognizing the shape of the object inside. Adrenaline shot straight into his heart.

  He had another chance to make this right. And this time, he would not screw it up.

  He tossed the envelope on the bed and set a world's record for packing and getting the hell out of Dodge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Shannon put her car in park and simply sat for a moment, forehead resting on the steering wheel. When she'd arrived in Helena, she'd gone straight to the office and spent hours writing reports, putting off the moment when she would have to go home…alone. She was almost too exhausted to drag herself into her ground floor apartment. How much more it would take before she could sleep? Deep, dark, blessed oblivion—no dreams, no nightmares, no fantasy lover to whisper promises with a voice that played over her skin like velvet.

  She flicked off the ignition, swung the door open and grabbed the top to haul her limp body into an upright position. Screw her luggage. It could wait. Everything could wait. For what, she wasn't sure.

  Her hand was unsteady as she fitted the key into the front door lock. The place would have that stuffy, lifeless air from being closed up for weeks. Normally, she would go from room to room throwing open windows, switching on ceiling fans. Today she the stale atmosphere suited her mood perfectly.

  She pushed the door open, tugged out the key—and dropped it on the floor with a muffled shriek.

  "Come on in," Tyler said. "You look beat."

  She braced a hand on the door frame and blinked, unable to grasp the reality of him lounging on her couch. He returned her stare, his dark eyes giving away nothing.

  "How did you..." She waved a hand that encompassed both how he'd found her apartment and slipped through the locked door.

  He shrugged. "Trick of the trade."

  "You talked the door into opening?"

  He winced at her acidic reference to his profession and held out his hand, a key dangling from his forefinger. "Your dad gave it to me."

  Shannon's skin turned clammy. Dad. How could you? She turned to push the door shut and stood, her hand pressed to the panel. "He told you."

  "Yes." She heard a rustle of movement as Tyler rose. His voice was nearer when he said, "Shannon, I owe you..."

  "No, you don't." She whirled and found him only a few steps away. She brushed past, ducking the hand that reached for her arm. "My job is to make sure the right guy goes to jail and the wrong one doesn't. I'd do the same for anyone."

  She strode to the patio door and shoved the slatted vertical blinds aside, squinting against the late evening sunlight that slanted into the room. Tyler's footsteps followed, muffled and tentative. She tensed, but he stopped while several feet still separated them.

  "I wanted to thank you..."

  She spun so suddenly he took a startled step backward. "I don't want your damned gratitude! It's not like I chose to get shot on your account. I wouldn't have approached Potter if we'd known about the previous murder charge. What I did was no more than what I did for Bud and Judy."

  "I know." He tucked his thumbs into his front pockets and gazed at her calmly. "Are you done?"

  She gaped at him. How could he be so relaxed when she felt as if she were about to explode at the seams? "Yeah."

  "Good. Maybe I can finish a sentence." He tapped his fingers against the outside of his jeans' pockets. The same pair he'd had on the night before, along with the same shirt, both the worse for wear. His hair still showed a distinctive sweat ring from his cowboy hat. Why hadn't he showered since she'd seen him last? "As I started to say...you saved my brother's life. Kevin eventually would have either cracked or become unnecessary and Potter would have killed him. So thanks."

  She shook her head. That was not what she'd expected. "You're welcome."

  "I was hoping I would be." He took a step closer. "I haven't done much to deserve your hospitality."

  His nearness sent her pulse skyrocketing and she still couldn't fathom the emotions she saw in his eyes. She turned abruptly, unable to face him. She felt rather than saw his hands reach for her, then fall back to his sides.

  "Where to next?" he asked.

  "For me?" She stared blindly into the box-like backyard. "I have no idea. At least, not until the disciplinary hearing is over and they decide whether to keep me on at all."

  "Your dad seems to be considering whether the ends justified the means, though he did mention busting you to desk duty."

  She shrugged, but her pulse gave a little bump. Maybe her career wasn't completely in the toilet.

  She drew a deep breath and let it out on a cynical chuckle. "Well, at least I won't be out there tearing up any more families."

  She heard him suck in a sharp breath, then she felt him move closer and braced herself for his touch. It came only in the warmth of his body pulsing in the gap between them, his breath stirring her hair. Her body ached, his proximity sheer torture.

  "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered.

  She shook her head. "You were angry."

  "Not at you." He bowed his head, his cheek brushing her hair, their only point of contact. His voice rumbled in her ear, sending a shimmer of sensation to her toes. "If you could have seen yourself, Shannon...."

  His hands closed over her arms, infinitely gentle, as if he was afraid she might fracture at his touch. He wasn't entirely wrong.

  "I know your job is important and I know someone has to do it…but I hate what it does to you. You get too close to people and when it all goes to hell, it rips your guts out." His hands moved to her wrists, then slid up her arms again, a touch so light it was nearly unbearable. "It made me furious to see you like that, I opened my big mouth and made it worse. Then I had no idea why you ran away. I just thought..."

  "That I'd left you again," she finished, in a voice that could barely squeak past the band around her throat. "You don't have much faith in me."

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. "I don't have any faith in me. How could you want a man so self-centered he couldn't see his brother imploding right in front of him?"

  "You didn't
know..."

  "I didn't want to know. If I'd let myself see I might have had to do something, and that would've meant spending more time at home. Giving up more rodeos. So I just closed my eyes and let it happen." He blew out a sigh that ruffled her hair. "What did you ever see in me?"

  "A man willing to do what was best for his family, even if it wasn't what he wanted for himself." She let her head drop back against his chest, her body soaking up the warm comfort of his, hoping she could offer the same. "A man like Bud West, who couldn't believe the worst of his own flesh and blood." She closed her eyes, seeing their gray, devastated faces, and breathed through the spasm of guilt. "How are they doing?"

  "Better than I expected. I think they've been holding their breath for a long time, hoping Danny had turned over a new leaf but knowing better. Bud called while I was driving over here. He said they intend to go on with the rodeos they have scheduled and they're not going to try to bail Danny out. He's on his own this time."

  Shannon shook her head, rocking it against the solid wall of Tyler's chest. "It's hard to understand how parents like that raised a son like him."

  "Some people are born with parts missing. Like a conscience." He hitched his arms around her waist and wrapped her in his strength. "What if they never let you go back out in the field?"

  She hesitated, then shrugged. "I wouldn't miss scenes like last night."

  "But the department would miss you." He nestled his chin into the curve of her neck. "After you left, I learned a few things. Seems that horse Danny was fixin' to ship to Texas belongs to a seventeen-year-old from Wolf Point. His family has next to nothing. He worked his butt off to save up enough to buy a yearling colt, then spent the last eight years making a damn good rope horse out of it and a roper out of himself. Last month he was runner-up for the national high school championship and got a scholarship to be on the rodeo team at Black Hills State." Tyler pressed a kiss into the curve of her jaw. "That wasn't just a horse, Shannon. It was his future, and you sacrificed yourself to save it for him…without ruining Big West Rodeo. Have I mentioned that you're my hero?"

  Impending tears made her voice husky. "Is that what you came to tell me?"

  "Yes. And no." His arms tightened and his lips brushed her ear. "I may not owe you anything, but you do owe me. You took some stuff of mine when you left."

  She twisted in his embrace to frown at him. "I never took a thing from your office."

  He bent his head, bringing them nose to nose. “Maybe not, but you stole everything else—my heart, my soul, my dream of marrying the woman I love—and I want it back."

  "You do?" she whispered, her voice trembling with hope.

  "I do. And the first chance I get, I intend to drag you in front of a minister to hear you say you do too."

  The rush of emotion drowned any chance of a coherent reply. All she could do was gaze up at him as the tears overflowed. Tyler kissed them away.

  "Those taste like happy tears." But his smile wasn't completely certain.

  Shannon nodded so hard she cracked her head into his chin. "They are. And I do. I will. Whatever."

  "Because..."

  "I love you," she said, a foolish grin spreading across her face.

  He gave a whoop of joy and hugged her so hard she felt her internal organs shift. Except her heart. Her heart felt invincible. Tyler loosened his grip and she sucked in much needed air, then lost it again when his hand cupped beneath her left breast.

  His velvety brown eyes shimmered with moisture. "I came so close to losing this precious heart. I promise, I'll take much better care of it from now on."

  "It would like that." She reached up to touch the purple shadows beneath his red-tinged eyes. "Speaking of taking care...you look terrible."

  "Thanks. So do you." He backed away from the patio door, pulling her with him. "Any chance I could talk you into showing me your bedroom?"

  She pretended to drag her feet. "Can I trust a fast talker like you?"

  "I hate to admit it, but yeah, you can. I'm so damned tired I couldn't lift a finger, let alone anything else." Then he made a liar of himself by scooping her off her feet and carrying her down the short hallway to her room. He laid her on the bed, kicked off his boots and stretched out beside her. "What I need right now is to fall asleep holding you and stay that way for about two days, then wake up holding you and see where it goes from there."

  She nestled in until they were chest to chest, hip to hip, legs and arms entwined. "Anywhere you want, Tyler, as long as you promise to take me along."

  "Lord, I love you." He covered her mouth in a kiss so tender she had tears in her eyes again when he pulled away. "I say we take the scenic route to forever."

  Then he tucked her even closer against him and started the journey the way they intended to continue—heart to heart.

  <<<<>>>>

  Reckless in Texas

  First in the Texas Rodeo series

  Violet Jacobs is fearless. At least, that’s what the cowboys she snatches from under the hooves of bucking horses think. Outside the arena, she’s got plenty of worries rattling her bones: her young son, her mess of a love life, and lately, her family’s struggling rodeo. When she takes business into her own hands and hires on a hotshot bullfighter, she expects to start a ruckus. She never expected Joe Cassidy. Rough and tumble, cocky and charming, Joe’s everything a superstar should be—and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s way out of Violet’s league.

  Joe came to Texas to escape a life spiraling out of control. He never planned on sticking around, and he certainly never expected to call this dry and dusty backwater home. But Violet is everything he never knew he was missing, and the deeper he’s pulled into her beautiful mess of a family, the more he realizes this fierce rodeo girl may be offering him the one thing he never could find on his own.

  Excerpt from Reckless in Texas

  Joe slid off his horse, face contorted with pain. He pressed his back against the nearest post and eased down, knees bent, hands clasped tight between his thighs, grinding out curses between clenched teeth. Violet dropped to a crouch between his feet, stomach churning at what she might find. Just a month earlier, she’d seen a team roper lose a thumb by catching it in his rope, and last year one of the tie-down ropers had crushed his wrist in a stray coil.

  “Let me see.” She took hold of his forearms, trying to pull his hand out to where she could examine it.

  “No.”

  “Yes.” She slid her hands down to his wrists, not feeling any gross deformities or blood, but he still had his gloves on. “Is it your thumb?”

  “Go. Away.”

  “Stop being a baby.”

  His right hand snapped up, whip-quick, and clamped on the back of her head, bringing them nose to nose, eye to eye. “It’s not my hand, Violet. It’s what’s underneath.”

  “What’s—oh!”

  Joe’s hand was cradling his crotch. That pop she’d heard? It was the knotted end of the rope whacking him where it counted. And her hand was right on top of his.

  He bared his teeth. “Still wanna kiss it better?”

  Mortification rolled over her, hot as molten lava. She tried to jerk away, but the force of Joe’s grip on her nape

  tipped her off balance. She grabbed his shoulders and her not-inconsiderable weight knocked him sideways. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. She scrambled to get her knees under her. One of them made contact with something solid. Joe yelped, twisting hard and fast, flipping Violet onto her back. She arched, bracing to fight him off.

  “Stop!”

  Violet froze.

  Joe was sprawled on top of her, his body rigid. Air hissed in and out between his teeth and sweat beaded on his forehead. “Just…don’t…move,” he panted. “Honest to God, you knee me in the thigh again, I’m gonna puke right down the front of your shirt.”

  Violet held her breath. If possible, she would’ve willed her heart to stop beating, in case the thud, thud, thud disturbed his stoma
ch. Motherhood had done nothing to disable her very active gag reflex. As her head cleared, she sorted out what was where. Joe was draped over her, chest to chest, her kneecap flush against the inside of the thigh Dirt Eater had nailed. She carefully rotated her leg, removing the pressure.

  “Thank you,” Joe breathed. “Just give me a minute to catch my air and I’ll get off of you.”

  Her hands were still clamped on his shoulders, but she couldn’t find anyplace else to put them. The longer she stayed put, the more aware she became of all the hard, lovely muscle under his T-shirt. If it were Beni, she could rub his back to make him feel better. She imagined sliding her palm down the sleek curve of Joe’s spine. Imagined his reaction. Yeah. He would definitely misinterpret the gesture. Much like her body was beginning to misinterpret their current position, the lean length of him hot against her, his cheek pressed to her collarbone, his face buried in the curve of her neck. Each short puff of air was a hot stroke on her skin.

  “You sound like you’re in labor,” she said.

  He huffed a laugh that tickled her ear. “If having a kid hurts as bad as gettin’ whacked on the pecker with a nylon rope, I need to buy my mother flowers.”

  “More like a new car,” Violet said drily. “And I thought it was your thigh.”

  “It’s both now, thanks to you.”

  “I was trying to help.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m guessing this is why you’re a pickup man and not a paramedic.”

  Degree by degree, the tension eased from his body, even as Violet wound up like a spring. Need coiled hot and low, and the urge to wiggle against him was almost intolerable.

  “Up until then you were doing pretty good,” she said, by way of casual conversation. “I’ll have to tell Beni you can handle stock okay.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She could hear the eye roll in his voice. He blew out a long, slow breath—then nuzzled his face into her hair and inhaled deeply. “You even smell good when you’ve been rolling in the dirt.”